


Alternatives to Goat Farming

by what_alchemy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, First Time, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e10 What They Become, Size Difference, internalized ableism, trip lives because i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_alchemy/pseuds/what_alchemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone has to tell Fitz Mack is alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives to Goat Farming

Fitz’s hand wasn’t in good enough working order for him to pack without dropping everything he touched. 

It was foolish and ironic and silly, and Fitz wanted to laugh laugh laugh, so he did. He laughed until he choked on it, until his throat burned, until he coughed and gasped. 

What kind of agency or company or think tank would take him in now? A gimp with _Flowers for Algernon_ syndrome. A stooped, vaguely human-shaped mess of trembling jelly who couldn’t string together a sentence. A ruined bit of defective flesh, friendless and alone. He was a joke, a liability, a low thing all higher-order beasts looked at with guilt in their eyes, thinking _thank the flying spaghetti monster it wasn’t me_. 

Rapid footsteps approached his doorway and then stopped to shuffle about, as if waffling. Fitz clenched his jaw. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” he muttered just before the knock came. The door opened a crack and Jemma’s head bobbed into the open space before he could call her in. Her color was up and her eyes were bright, as though she were attempting not to cry at the mere sight of him. She always looked at him this way now. It made something curdle in Fitz’s gut. 

“There you are,” she said with forced cheer. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Must not have looked hard,” he said. “Seeing as I was in my room and all.”

Jemma tilted her head and furrowed her brow as if to let him know how unreasonable he was being for expecting a bunch of super spies and geniuses to use their clever little intact brain cells to locate him. He just sighed and turned back to his luggage. 

“Come in if you’re coming in,” he said, and behind him he heard the door snick shut. Slowly, mindful of his tremor and the fact that Jemma was watching, he folded up a pair of trousers and laid them in his bag. He picked up another piece of clothing and kept going. He shook and spikes of heat zinged up his arm, but he dropped nothing. Maybe he could go to some remote island inhabited only by three old people, and he could start a goat farm. He thought he was up for that much. Jemma fidgeted in the periphery of his vision. 

“So there’s a bit of good news,” Jemma said eventually. “We were going to call, but….well. We thought you’d like to be told in person.”

“Busy at the moment,” Fitz said. 

“Fitz. Please look at me, for God’s sake.”

“I have to get this done,” he said. “Whatever bit of news you have, just go ahead and tell me and be on your way so I can get out of everyone’s hair faster.”

For a while, the only sound in his quarters was the shuffle of fabric going into his bag.

“Don’t do this,” Jemma said after a long time. Resentment hot as the bloody pit that had ripped Mack away rose up in Fitz’s gullet, and only the fact that he knew he would burst into tears if he looked at Jemma kept him from whipping around to unleash a tirade at her. 

“Jemma,” he said, low and measured. “I can’t stay here anymore. It’s over for me without— Can you understand that? So let me go and don’t make a fuss.”

“You’re my best friend,” Jemma said, and her voice had the humid quality that meant there were tears streaming down her face. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” Fitz said. He rifled through his bedside drawer to pick up spare change and chapstick and little bits of not-quite-trash that had accumulated there, only to encounter the unopened bottle of lube he’d bought in a stunning fit of optimism two weeks ago. He placed his gimp hand on it to cover the label, and as it trembled, he felt the corners of his mouth tug downward without his volition.

He’d been so stupid. He’d been so stupid for so long. He didn’t know which sin of self-delusion was worse: his failure to notice that he was a bit bent for the past twenty-five years, his fear of letting the connection that pulsed between himself and Mack come to fruition, or believing Mack had ever looked at him with anything more than friendly amusement in the first place. He supposed he’d never know now. 

“Look,” Jemma said, and now she was a touch cross, which almost made Fitz smile. “Everyone thought it was best to ease you into the idea, but you’re being a tit so I’ll just come out and say it. Mack’s alive. Mack’s alive and he’s fine — currently attempting to leave his cot AMA, as it happens, in order to find you, the biggest tit in the world, God knows why. When you’re ready to come out of this… this _wallow_ you’re enjoying, do let us know.”

Fitz was staring at her, and the bottle of lube he clutched clattered back into the drawer. Jemma pinched her mouth into a bud and straightened her spine and tilted her chin up at a defiant angle. Her brown eyes shone with tears she refused to let fall.

“You’re not that kind of doctor,” he said faintly.

“I’m all we’ve got, if you haven’t noticed,” Jemma snapped. “Now go get your man, or so help me God, I will box your ears, Leopold Fitz.”

“He’s not my man,” Fitz said, “and you don’t believe in God.” It was as if his brain had shorted out on him worse than ever, and now Jemma sighed, blowing a lock of escapee hair from her face. She didn’t bother to hide her irritation.

“Do you know why I can’t be with you like you wanted before, Fitz?” she said, and Fitz’s heart swooped low into his belly. “Because I, for one, thought we had an understanding all these years, but turns out lack of explicit communication leads to catastrophic misunderstandings, who knew?” Nervous laughter bubbled out of her throat.

“I’m confused,” Fitz said. Mack was alive and Jemma was talking about feelings; he had no idea what to do with his hands.

“I’m _gay_ , Fitz,” Jemma blurted, and her gaze skittered away. “I thought you were too. I didn’t know you could ever feel that way for me, and I thought you knew I’d never be able to reciprocate if you did. I thought you and I… It hurts, you know. Not talking to you. Not seeing you. Not being able to call you up any time I felt like it. I know we should have talked about all of this a long time ago, before any of this happened, and some of that is my fault, I know. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry we didn’t know these huge parts of each other because we’re…we’re scientists and we’re British and it’s not the done thing. I’m sorry, but it’s done, and there’s a man down in medbay who’s terribly attractive and all he wants in the world other than the IV taken out of his arm is you. So what, pray tell, are you going to do about it?”

Fitz felt as though he might vomit at the same time as his heart would explode, and all he could say was, “But you always get flustered when Trip smiles at you.”

Jemma barked out a laugh that was all the lovelier for how unselfconsciously braying it was.

“My God, Fitz, I might be into women, but I’m not bloody _blind_.”  

There was a creak outside the door, and then it cracked open to reveal a sliver of tall, broad, lovely wonderfulness.

“I’m gonna be mad I missed this conversation, aren’t I?” came the dear, deep voice, and Fitz’s knees buckled. His arse landed on his bed even as his jaw hung open helplessly. He was dimly aware of Jemma smirking at him before sliding out the door to make room for Mack.

“You shouldn’t be out of hospital, you know,” Fitz heard her say. All he could see was Mack’s ear and the bloody great bulges of his biceps as he leaned into the doorjamb.

“Come on, Simmons,” he said. “I don’t even have a bruise on me. There’s no reason to hold me.”

“You were _possessed_ ,” she hissed. “And at the very least, you fell five hundred feet onto hard hard stone.”

“Chalk it up to a miracle?”

“I want to see you first thing tomorrow, is that understood?”

“Right after coffee and conversation, doctor, got it.”

“You!”

“Simmons,” Mack said, tone soothing but firm. “Don’t you have another patient? A prettier one?”

“I am capable of worrying about several things at once,” Jemma said. “I have a doctorate.” 

Fitz hid a smile at her tone — the familiar notes of her ruffled dignity — and he wondered if someday it could be like it was between them, only without the acrid edge of longing Fitz had always brought to their friendship. That was gone like so much steam, and in the hollows it had left was a new, pulsing thing that felt more warm and alive than any of his hopeless pining ever had. It made him sad, that he could reach this point in his life and know so little about how to cultivate and nurture love, but there was also exhilaration in the breathless simmer Mack inspired in his blood. It was so unlike what Fitz had always felt for Jemma: admiration and charm, a greedy wish to occupy all her time. He may have been unseasoned in the ways of friendship before he knew her, mockable little swot that he was, but he was ashamed nonetheless to have mistaken it for this: the beat of mingled desire and awe, the heady, impossible dream that he could get so close to Mack they might merge into one being redolent with affection and contentment. 

Mack closed the door, and Jemma’s footsteps faded down the corridor. Heart fluttering, Fitz stood up and, unsure of how to proceed, slouched and tucked the backs of his hands against his hips before  daring to look up into Mack’s face. Mack himself stood before him as an adonis, eyes warm and mouth curled at the corners. He looked as though he were drinking Fitz in, and at the thought, Fitz flushed.

“Look at you,” he said, too loud in the tiny space. 

“I’m not about to question a miracle,” Mack said. His voice was low, and it reverberated between the bulkheads, vibrating up Fitz’s spine. He fancied he could feel his blood rush low and pulse faster at his coccyx. It made him want to squirm and clench, but he had a modicum of self-control. Just not quite enough to stop his feet from taking a single step forward, his weak hand from reaching out and resting against the swell of Mack’s pectoral muscle, poorly hidden by a thin cotton tee. He could feel the steady beat of Mack’s heart in the pads of his fingers.

“You,” Fitz said, and all his words dried up on his shaking breath. His fingers tangled in Mack’s t-shirt, and he stumbled forward to press his ear to the evidence of Mack’s continued existence. Mack closed one big hand over the entirety of Fitz’s, while the other came to rest, warm, on Fitz’s head. Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and let the steadfast thump of Mack’s pulse wash over him. 

“Hey,” Mack said. The sound of his voice vibrated through Fitz’s whole body and sparked in his bollocks. He turned his face into Mack’s chest and clutched at his t-shirt. Mack closed both arms around his back and squeezed him. “I’m all right. I’m right here.”

“I wasn’t,” Fitz said. “I couldn’t.”

“Hey. Everything’s okay.”

Fitz only shook his head, which resulted in a possibly inappropriate rubbing of his face between Mack’s pectorals, but he thought they were beyond that now. He was 94% sure Mack thought of him the way he thought of Mack. 82%. Maybe 68%. Definitely at least 50%.

Then, Fitz felt Mack’s arms tighten again just before laying his cheek in Fitz’s hair. They stayed thus for long minutes, swaying with the force of their breath coming in steady tandem. For a suspended moment in time, Fitz was utterly content, sure of his place in Mack’s affections. Sure in the steadiness of Mack’s heartbeat.

“Where were you gonna go?” Mack asked after a long time, voice pitched low as if not to disturb the peace they’d forged.

Fitz shrugged.

“Maybe I would have started a goat farm,” he mumbled. “In Shetland.” He felt Mack’s soft laugh like an earthquake through his body. Mack rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Fitz’s back, and Fitz wanted, more than anything, the courage not to ease his hips away when his penis chubbed up in his pants. But he always sorted 50/50 into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff on online tests. Never, ever Gryffindor.  

“Hey,” Mack murmured, pulling away just enough to look down and meet Fitz’s eyes. Fitz’s face was hot, and he was a bit miserable about the vagaries of the male body, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Mack’s eyes were so _brown_. “Don’t do that.”

“’m not doing anything,” Fitz grumbled, but Mack slid a hand firmly to the small of his back and brought him back into his embrace. Brought the stiffening bundle of his cock in to collide with Mack’s solid thigh. And, in answer, Fitz felt the warm knot of Mack’s own cock on his stomach. 

“Cards out on the table,” Mack said. “I don’t do the emotional constipation thing. Who’s got time for that? Ready?”

“Erm.” Fitz hoped clenching his hands around Mack’s lovely hard hip cuts was answer enough. 

“I want you, and I have since that day in the lab,” Mack said, and Fitz was grateful, for the trillionth time, that Mack spoke his non-language. “I was just waiting to see when you’d notice you wanted me back.” 

“I noticed,” Fitz said. “But I felt like…” Fitz’s mouth sealed itself shut.

“Gotta finish your sentence, Turbo,” Mack said. “I statements are your friends.”

“I felt stupid,” Fitz blurted. “And it was as if I, as if—” He rolled his wrist as if to coax the words out, Mack looking down at him with his maddeningly understanding eyes, and Fitz huffed out a garbled, nonverbal sound in irritation.

“I can wait all day for you to say what you need to say,” Mack said. “That, I have time for. Come on.” He stepped away from Fitz’s body, from Fitz’s deflating cock, but linked his fingers in with Fitz’s damaged ones and sat down on the edge of Fitz’s bed. He pulled at Fitz gently, and Fitz took his place beside him, thigh pressed against the length of Mack’s, which was warm and thick and making Fitz’s thoughts race all over again. Their hands lay tangled on Mack’s knee, and for a moment Fitz sat mesmerized by the way Mack’s big hand enveloped his slighter one, the way Mack’s skin looked so rich and warm against the pale little glowsticks of Fitz’s own fingers.

“You talk,” Fitz said. “It’s easier when you talk.”

“I can’t say what you need to say for you,” Mack said. 

“If you talk first, it’ll be easier for my, for the, erm.”

“Okay. I can do that. What do you want me to talk about?”

“When did you know? That you, er, liked boys?”

Mack was silent for a moment, and Fitz listened to his breathing. He had taken one of Fitz’s hands into both of his, and he was occupied with stroking each finger — thoroughly, like a TSA agent hunting for contraband. Only sexier. Fitz shook his head as if he could dislodge the thought. 

“When I was little,” Mack said, “there was a boy my age, Hector, who lived in the same building. It was a family neighborhood, you know, wholesome, lots of kids around, but everyone knew me and Hector were a matched set. Couldn’t get one without the other. Sometimes I would find little dandelions in the cracks of the sidewalk and bring them to him. Or, you know—” He laughed in a single rueful huff. “—little boy bouquets: doodle bugs and funny-looking rocks and half-dead worms with dandelion fuzz on top. He used to sling his arm over my shoulder and off we’d go, inseparable.”

“You loved him,” Fitz said. 

Mack turned his head from the far-off stare he was giving the wall and looked at Fitz as if it was the first time he’d seen him. Fitz squeezed his hands, and he squeezed back. 

“When you’re little like that,” Mack said, choosing his words carefully, “love is knowing you want to be with this one person all the time. And maybe you want to kiss them like the movies, but sex doesn’t even exist in your world. It’s just — pure. Not that sex makes things impure, that’s destructive, unhealthy thinking, but… sometimes I miss how clear it can be without the question of sex, when you’re just a kid, and all you need to be happy is this one person’s time and attention, because you get along so well, and that’s it. It’s not sophisticated, it’s not complicated, it’s not bogged down by obligation and duty, but it feels good. It feels right. Even if some adult swoops in and tells you it’s not real or that’s just what friends feel or you’ll grow out of it — just because you’re little doesn’t mean you don’t know.”

“What happened to Hector?” Fitz asked. 

“I told my mom I wanted to marry him so I could bring him cereal every morning.” Mack’s mouth curved into a lush smile, but it was sad anyway. “She whupped me good and stopped us spending time together. Eventually Hector’s family moved away, and that was it.”

“You could look him up now! You could find him! The internet!”

Mack shifted to face Fitz better, and he shook his head.

“It was more than twenty-five years ago, Turbo. I’ve had other loves. Sometimes the past has to stay the past.”

“But you and he could—” Fitz clammed up again, because he didn’t know what might fly out of it amid the churning miasma of jealousy — of a long-gone child! — and the desire for Mack to be as purely happy as he spoke of being when he was young in Hector’s company.

Mack lifted one hand and smoothed it over Fitz’s shoulder and down his back as if tidying his shirt. 

“There’s someone else I care for now,” he said. “And at this point, Hector is just a safe fantasy I had decades ago, something that was never real so it could never hurt me. But you and me — that’s real, right?”

Fitz nodded. He swallowed and forced his mouth open so he could say, “I don’t want to hurt you?”

Mack smiled, and his eyes dropped to Fitz’s lip, which made Fitz’s mouth go dry.

“Hazard of the job,” Mack said. “Being human.”

“I’m not very good at it,” Fitz said. 

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

“It was always only Simmons for me,” Fitz said in a rush, and Mack just nodded. Fitz held his breath for five seconds, and then let it out. “I was… very lonely, before. We both went to uni so young, only fourteen. We were not…er, you know, with the beauty and the, the, the social ease and the things to do other than our coursework. We spent all our time together. We fused into this one entity where we could bounce our ideas off each other, and we became better together than separate. I always thought… I always thought eventually we would… erm. _Become_ together.”

“But that changed,” Mack said.

Fitz nodded and stared down at their linked hands. He was afraid his palm might grow sweaty and gross at any moment, but Mack showed no signs of pulling away. 

“I was… hurt, and she couldn’t look at me, and my whole world crumbled. She left, and I didn’t even have my, my brain — the only thing I’d ever really had — to rely on. Everything was gone or rubbish. Everyone treated me like, erm, like a fried egg whose yolk had broken in the pan. You know, still edible but not what anyone signed up for. And then…and then you were there. And you made me feel light. Like I could do anything, even though I was crippled, mind and body both. And when I looked at you…” Fitz shook his head. He’d come to the end of his words. “I felt stupid,” he said again.

“You felt stupid because…”

“Because I should have known! Because I’m twenty-six years old and never got my nose out of a motherboard long enough to notice maybe blokes were my cup of tea. Because I was fool enough to think Jemma was the beginning and end of my…my….my…” He made a strangled, frustrated sound and flapped a hand in the air as if he could pull the words from the ether. 

“Hey, listen to me.” Mack’s hand closed on the back of Fitz’s neck, and Fitz had nowhere to look but into the deep brown of Mack’s eyes. “Friendships can be as intense as romances. It’s easy, sometimes, to mistake one for the other. None of that makes you stupid, okay? Brave, loyal, and someone you can count on no matter what, definitely, but not stupid.” 

“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” Fitz whispered. The hand on his neck slid forward to cup his jaw, thumb swiping warm over his cheekbone. Uneven breath shuddered from his lungs.

“It’s easy.” Mack’s voice seemed to rumble right into the core of Fitz’s being, and once again his cock clamored to join the proceedings. “Don’t slobber, and don’t try to choke me with your tongue. Got it?”

Fitz nodded and hoped he didn’t look too frantic doing it. Mack tilted his face close, and Fitz saw his eyes flutter shut before he decided he should close his, too. He felt the promise of Mack’s breath on his lips, and he gasped, his mouth falling open just as Mack pressed his lips to Fitz’s. The shock of contact, soft and warm, sent electricity up Fitz’s spine. _Labium superius oris, labium inferius oris, tuberculum labii superioris, philtrum, mucous membranes_ , his brain spat out rapid-fire, but it was all cast aside at the first touch of the tip of Mack’s tongue to Fitz’s. It shorted his brain out again, but for once the loss of thought felt like a kind of freedom, a stratospheric soaring, rather than something that hindered his every waking moment. 

It took him a few moments to catch the rhythm of Mack’s kiss and keep their noses and teeth from colliding, but Fitz was a quick study, short circuits in the brain or not. Ten minutes into his first kiss, Fitz found himself with two handfuls of Mack’s t-shirt as Mack’s big hands roamed dangerously close to his arse. His cock throbbed where it was pressed against Mack’s knee, and he could feel Mack’s erection, huge and hot where he’d slotted his thigh between Mack’s legs. Mack hauled him into his lap, which resulted in a collision of said hard-ons, and Fitz hoped the sound he just made came out more like a sexy moan than the unmanly squeak he suspected. 

He ground into the hard column of cock in Mack’s trousers and tried to kiss him deeper, but Mack stilled, his hands on Fitz’s back ceasing their southerly kneading. 

“Hey, hold up,” he said. Fitz pulled back in a daze. Mack was glassy-eyed before him, lips swollen and slick. “We gotta slow down.”

“Why?” Fitz said.

“Because,” Mack said, blinking big and slow. “Reasons. Good ones.”

“I want this,” Fitz said. “I know I’ve not had much, er, _experience_ , but I want this. I’ve thought about it. I’ve… Mack, please.”

The hands around the small of his back tightened. In Mack’s lap, Fitz had the sudden vantage with which to look down at him, and what he found there was awe. Mack looked up at him as if Fitz had burned the stars into the sky.

“You’ve thought about it,” he murmured. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.” 

Fitz felt his ears burn, and instead of speaking, he tucked his face into the juncture at Mack’s neck and shoulder, rolling his hips into Mack’s, tucking his hands beneath the hem of Mack’s t-shirt. 

“Please,” he said, hoping it was enough. 

In one nameless ninja move on Mack’s part, Fitz found himself pitched to his side on the mattress, Mack’s heavy leg thrown over both of his while Mack leaned over him with a hungry look on his face. 

“If you tell me what you want, we can work on it,” Mack said. He slipped the hand he wasn’t using to prop himself up beneath Fitz’s button-down to rest over his belly. It made him squirm even as his cock filled further.

“Er, I’ve got a bit of pudge, is the thing…” he said. 

Mack snorted, nosing down his neck to breathe him in.

“And I’ve got stretch marks,” he said. “Bodies happen.”

“I want to see them.” The words spilled out of him. “I want to kiss them and smell them and, and, and _merge_ with them.” 

There was a moment of silence during which Fitz contemplated dying of embarrassment, but it was broken by a low growl that emanated from deep in Mack’s chest as he rubbed his face into Fitz’s collarbone. 

“More,” he said into Fitz’s skin. Fitz gasped and his eyes slid shut. He shifted enough to push his cock, now slicking his underwear, against Mack’s hips. He pushed his hands beneath Mack’s t-shirt to feel the play of muscles on Mack’s back.

“I — I want to suck you,” he said, breathless. “I want you to — to be inside me, any which way. I want to take you in me and get closer than atoms into molecules.” He pulled his feet up to rest flat on the mattress, Mack cradled between his legs. Mack covered him wholly, and Fitz could only marvel at the breadth of Mack’s shoulders under his hands. A flick of Mack’s wrist and some of Fitz’s shirt buttons went flying. Fitz yanked up Mack’s t-shirt and threw it onto the floor after a bit of a tussle with his head, and then they were chest to chest and kissing again. Fitz could feel Mack’s cock pressing insistently into his own through their trousers, and suddenly it was an unbearable injustice that cloth should separate them now. “Please,” was the only word that made sense to him. “Please, please.”

It was inelegant, Fitz supposed, but it got the job done. Mack got to his knees to undo Fitz’s trousers and pull them off by the cuffs, pants and all, leaving Fitz soft and exposed in his bedding. Mack knelt before him, powerful and perfect, eyes blazing as he gazed down at him, and Fitz’s mouth went dry. He didn’t have time to be self conscious about his various physical shortcomings before he reached for Mack’s flies. The fabric was straining with the effort to rein in his erection. Fitz’s breath hitched when he grazed it, fingers poised on the button, and he was suddenly afraid of hurting it. 

“You should…”

“Here, I’ll just—” Mack undid the button and slowly, so bloody slowly Fitz believed it must have been a joke on him, he eased the zipper down over the veritable mast in his trousers. He pulled his boxer briefs down along with his trousers and then Mack was naked before him, hard and resplendent. Fitz almost didn’t know where to look, Mack was so lovely all over. The obvious focal point bobbed huge and damp (and circumcised!) in a nest of springy black curls between his legs. Fitz licked his lips and touched his fingertips to the head, where it was smooth and slick and hot. At the resultant shudder, Fitz grew bold enough to close his hand around the shaft and give it a tentative pump. Mack drew in a sharp breath, and Fitz tightened his grip. His hand just cleared the circumference of the shaft, and low down deep inside him, Fitz felt his blood begin to thump. His arse clenched in anticipation. 

“It’s very, erm.” 

“You don’t have to,” Mack said. He crowded back into Fitz, which had the dual outcome of pushing him back down into bed and stealing the lovely cock away from his hands. 

“I want to?” Fitz said, but Mack nudged at his mouth and kissed him again. Fitz felt his spine melt at the slick touch of Mack’s tongue. He let his legs fall open, and Mack slotted himself into the space he created, their cocks thrusting together in electric little thrills. Fitz moaned into Mack’s mouth, one hand holding on to a chiseled bicep for dear life while the other cupped the back of Mack’s head as if to keep him from escaping. Mack slid an arm underneath Fitz’s leg to hook his elbow in a knee, and he established a slow, burning rhythm of thrusting his cock against Fitz’s. 

Fitz slid his hands down to Mack’s hips in an effort to increase the contact, or at least the pressure on his prick. When he wrapped his legs around Mack’s back, Mack’s cock budged up against his hole, and he mewled. He twisted in the bed until he could reach his beside drawer, and he drew out his optimistic lube and tossed it onto the mattress.

Mack slowed when he saw it and then stopped entirely. He slid off Fitz halfway, but the weight of him pinning Fitz to the bed was rather comforting in a foreign, exciting way. He looked…apprehensive. Which was weird. And definitely more Fitz’s area of expertise.

“Are you all right?” Fitz asked. 

“Do we really need lube?” Mack said. “I was going to suck you off, if you were comfortable with that.”

“I mean… I’m not about to object,” Fitz said with a strangled giggle. “But I was hoping, tonight. That you would, erm, in me. You know.”

Mack withdrew from Fitz completely and sat propped up by the pillows. Fitz shivered at the loss.

“Look, there’s no rush,” Mack said. “We got time, right? No one’s going anywhere. So let’s go slow. Take the scenic route.” He smiled slow and curly at Fitz, dragged a hand up Fitz’s thigh, but Fitz wasn’t fooled. 

“D’you not like that bit? Because we don’t have to if you don’t, but I was just…I’ve been gagging for it, really. Just bloody dizzy at the prospect of you and me, and erm, elemental bonding and being as close as we could get and all. The thought of it was really quite…” Mack was staring at him with an unreadable expression, and Fitz cleared his throat. “…compelling.”

Mack sat up completely and took his hand away. Without piling on top of each other, the two of them barely fit on Fitz’s narrow bed. Mack’s broad shoulders rolled inward, and where he usually looked Fitz right in the eye no matter the subject of conversation, now his gaze hovered somewhere near Fitz’s earlobe.

“Maybe we could try it the other way,” Mack said. “You in me. I’d like that.”

“Well…sure,” Fitz said. “I’d like that as well.”

“Okay, so let’s do it.”

“Erm.”

“I’ll take care of it. Do you have condoms?”

“Mack, wait. Look at me? Please?”

“What? We’re doing this, right?”

“Just slow down a second, all right? I need, I need a moment.”

Mack’s shoulders were tense, and his mouth was a firm line. No smile lurked about the corners of his eyes. He didn’t even look like the same person who’d taken Fitz’s face in the cup of his hands and kissed him so gentle and slow, like a healing balm.

“Can you tell me what I’ve done?” Fitz said. “Because you’re upset, and it’s my fault, and we don’t have to talk about—” He took a deep breath. “—about _anal sex_ ever again if you don’t want, but I’d just… I’d just like to be clear about it, yeah? So. Please.” 

Mack closed his eyes and Fitz felt his heart sink. He rooted around for a sheet with which to cover his flaccid prick. After a while, Mack opened his eyes again and met Fitz’s gaze head-on.

“Have you ever put anything in your anus?”

And Fitz knew it was ridiculous, especially since not five minutes ago he was begging this man to put his prick into said anus, but his face flamed and he was sure his ears would fall right off from embarrassment. He screwed up his courage to answer.

“Just my fingers,” he said. “Er… rubbing a bit, and then a finger. Got two in once before I— well.” He tilted his chin up in defiance. “I quite liked it, really. I could do with more of it. That’s why I thought… But it doesn’t matter, if it’s not something you want to do.”

“Okay,” Mack said. His chest heaved with a deep intake of breath. He let it out slow and measured through his nose, and then he slid a hand down to cup his genitals. “You’ve seen my penis. It’s…”

“Proportionate?” Fitz said, mouth tilting up. When Mack answered with a little smile of his own, relief cracked inside Fitz’s chest. 

“Yeah,” he said, and his shoulders relaxed a little. “It’s been… a problem. Sometimes. It’s not that I don’t like penetrating my partners — I do, a lot even. It’s just that it can be more hassle than it’s worth, and you do everything you can but then someone zigs when they should have zagged or someone decides there’s a fire and they have to rush, and someone ends up getting hurt. And a big penis sounds like something people want in bed, but at the end of the day, it’s just too much. They start resenting the fact that I have a big one at all and it isn’t everything they dreamed, and over time that can be damaging to the relationship.” He reached over and took Fitz’s hand in both of his and tangled all their fingers together, gazing at the resultant fist intently. “You’re new to this. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want you to start associating me with disappointment, or even pain. I couldn’t take that.”

Fitz scooted over and settled onto his side, nestling his head into the very, very nice chest on offer. He felt Mack sigh, and then he disentangled one of his hands in order to drape an arm around Fitz’s shoulders. 

“Did you mean to hurt the others?” Fitz asked.

“Of course not,” Mack said. “I would never. But your intentions don’t mean much when something goes wrong like that, or when the rest of your relationship twists and deteriorates all around it.”

“No offense, Mr. Mack, but it doesn’t sound to me like you had real catches in your net, if they couldn’t even accept a very basic part of your anatomy.”

“Fitz… _Leo_ …Jesus, what am I gonna call you? It’s not like one day they woke up and couldn’t bear to look at my penis. It’s more complicated than that. It’s a process. Like erosion. I’m not explaining it right. Look at us, now our dicks are soft.”

“Just call me Fitz,” Fitz said. “It’s a bit ridiculous, you know, being named Leopold. Better to model yourself after Holmes and Watson. Mulder and Scully. Moose and Squirrel. Erm.”

Mack laughed, and the sound rumbled through Fitz’s body. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into Mack’s pectoral. He thought he’d never tire of the sensation of Mack’s mirth quite literally rolling through him.

“You’re just…you’re fucking adorable, you know?” Mack said. “Do woodland creatures come land on your shoulders and tell you secrets?”

“I’ve a no woodland creatures policy, I’m afraid. Very strict. I’m a martyr for allergies.”

Mack snorted.

“That’s too bad,” he said. Mack’s fingertips trailed up Fitz’s spine only to tangle into his hair. The touch sent a thrill through Fitz’s arsehole again.

“Mack?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you still… I mean, is the mood completely spoilt, or can we salvage this?”

“There’s a lot we can do that isn’t anal, you know,” Mack said. 

“I know,” Fitz said.

“It’s kind of a stereotype that all sex between men is anal sex.”

Fitz knew that, too. Knowing how many arse-free variations were possible between himself and Mack didn’t stop his blood from coursing surely in the direction of his hole. He’d always been partial to a bit of a rub back there, in his alone time, but when he’d finally acknowledged his desire for Mack, he’d been unable to stop the fantasies from unspooling like film reels behind his eyelids: sitting in Mack’s lap and bouncing happily away on the column of his cock, kneeling before him on hands and knees while Mack drilled into him whispering filth into his ear and rubbing gentle hands down his back, on his back with his feet in the air as he held Mack close. Unable to speak, he just nodded into Mack’s chest. Mack stroked through his hair, and they were silent awhile. 

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Mack said. 

“I’m sorry,” Fitz said. 

“Hey, no,” Mack said. “Feeling ashamed about our desires is not how we’re gonna roll here, all right? I shouldn’t have been so negative about it. That’s my baggage, not yours.”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t like,” Fitz said. 

Mack turned them over so he was leaning into Fitz again, and then he rested his chin on Fitz’s bit of pudge so Fitz had to crane his neck down to keep looking at him, but Mack didn’t seem to find the angle awkward so Fitz strove not to think on it overmuch. Mack’s beard scratched pleasantly on Fitz’s belly. 

“How bout this,” Mack said. “I’ll turn you over and give that pretty little ass of yours some of the attention it needs. We’ll go slow, see how we both feel. Let things happen naturally.”

Fitz pulled him up and kissed him. That seemed to say more than the jumble of words tangled up on his tongue could, anyway.

Mack swept his hands up Fitz’s chest and tweaked a nipple. If Fitz squeaked into Mack’s mouth, neither of them mentioned it, but Fitz felt the curve of Mack’s smile and his heart swelled with feeling. Mack pulled away to trail bristly kisses along Fitz’s throat, which didn’t actually titillate him much, but once he got underneath and licked a stripe behind his ear, Fitz gasped and bucked his hips. 

“Like that?” Mack said.

“Yes!” Fitz said. Mack hummed and pressed a sucking kiss into the tender hollow under Fitz’s ear. Fitz ground his prick up into Mack’s solid abs, thighs tightening around Mack’s hips. He ran his hands down to Mack’s arse and moaned at the firm handfuls he there. Fitz felt drunk on the scent of him, on the sensation of being pressed into the mattress by his warm, comforting bulk, on the way his hands and mouth set his skin on fire. He blinked heavy eyelids as those hands turned him on his side, and finally onto his stomach. Mack rubbed his beard down between Fitz’s shoulder blades and Fitz arched up, a strangled shout filling the tiny space of his bedroom. Mack chuckled and ran his hands down Fitz’s sides.

“Shh,” he said. “Bus’s made of tissue paper.”

“I…it felt…”

“I know, kid,” Mack said, the words buzzing into the skin of Fitz’s back and making him shiver even as his cock filled impossibly further. Mack dragged his teeth lightly down Fitz’s spine, hands skimming over the swells of his arse. Fitz tried to muffle his moans in the pillows, but he couldn’t stop them altogether. Being touched like this, so reverently, the intimacy and safety and maddening arousal of it, was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Mack moved slowly down his back, and Fitz squirmed into the bedding. “You’re doing so well,” Mack said. “You’re perfect.”

Fitz whimpered. The only brain cell he had left was concentrating on making sure the pillows caught his exhalations, so he wasn’t prepared when Mack’s big hands closed over the globes of his arse and _spread them apart_. 

“Jesus,” Mack growled. “Shoulda known you’d be gorgeous everywhere.”

Fitz felt his arsehole clench. He whined into his pillows, and then Mack blew a light stream of air into his crack. 

“Oh God,” Fitz said. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

Mack squeezed at his arse and Fitz felt the rumble of Mack’s groan through all his heated flesh. He cried out, his arsehole spasming helplessly. 

“Please,” he said. “Mack, please.”

“Hush now,” Mack said, and Fitz whimpered, burying his face in his pillows. He canted his hips up, and Mack gave another appreciative hum as he stroked down Fitz’s arsecheeks. Fitz wished he would rub his fingers over his hole, tease him a bit before going inside, _God_ inside with those long, lovely fingers of his, but instead Mack appeared to be simply inspecting, and it was driving Fitz mad. 

And then, Mack was nuzzling into the small of Fitz’s back, breathing him deep and giving him a maddening stubble burn. He sucked lightly into the skin over each cheek before moving lower. He hitched Fitz’s hips up until his knees were on the mattress, spread wide. Fitz’s face burned.

“God, you blush all over,” Mack murmured, hands stroking down Fitz’s back. “Like strawberries and cream.” And then, without warning, Mack’s tongue descended on Fitz’s arse, licking a broad stripe from his bollocks to his coccyx. Fitz issued a strangled yelp and startled, but Mack’s hands steadied his hips as he worked his tongue over the sensitive rim of Fitz’s hole.

“Mack — Mack, I don’t know if I’m clean, you shouldn’t—”

“Turbo,” Mack said into Fitz’s arse, “people don’t have sex because it’s hygienic.” He sucked gently on Fitz’s arsehole, and Fitz’s eyes rolled back in his head. “And I promise, you’re as delicious as I thought you’d be. Now relax and enjoy yourself, okay?”

Fitz allowed himself to slump into the pillows, arse propped in the air, as Mack squeezed as his arsecheeks and laved his hole with a pointed, twisting tongue. The sensation was intoxicating, and it felt as though Fitz’s pulse had taken up sole residence in his arse. He squirmed to get closer, balancing himself on his shoulders as he grasped the base of his cock with his good hand and reached behind him to cup the back of Mack’s head with the other. Mack moaned and the vibration sent a new thrill up Fitz’s spine. He shouted into his pillows and ground backward into Mack’s tongue, which was big and slick and warm and finally beginning to breech his hole. Mack growled into Fitz’s arse and licked into him with renewed fervor. He hooked his arms beneath Fitz’s thighs to hold him steady, and he slapped Fitz’s hand away from his cock in order to stroke it himself. His hand was so big is engulfed Fitz’s prick completely. Fitz whimpered and twisted his hand in the bedsheets. Starbursts exploded behind his eyelids, and he could feel his cock grow slicker in Mack’s grip. Mack alternated long probes inside with maddening flickers outside, deep gentle sucks with little nips at the rim. He seemed content to work Fitz’s arse open this way forever, if the noises he made into Fitz’s crack were any indication. 

Fitz lost track of time as the muscles of his anus slackened under Mack’s ministrations. This wasn’t something he’d dared think of in his fantasy life, but he was certain it was better than anything he could have dreamed up in the throes of his guilty, furtive wank sessions. More than the sensation of it, which was dizzying and shockingly good all on its own, was the intimacy of it. He was laid bare, at his most vulnerable and open, literally and metaphorically, and Mack was there, fitting himself into his hollow, aching, _greedy_ bits, filling him up and laying hands on him, mouth and tongue and gorgeous, lovely warm eyes, making him less alone. Mack was there, and Mack cherished him. Mack would handle him so gently, always. Fitz was certain. 

Mack growled again and sent a zing through Fitz’s melted body. He rose up and took Fitz’s hips with him, hand splayed on Fitz’s back even as the other jerked relentlessly at his cock. He pushed his tongue as far as it would go into Fitz’s arse, and Fitz could feel Mack’s own cock on his leg, wet and hot. Fitz’s pleasure sharpened, and he keened. He clenched his hole around Mack’s tongue and tried to pull away, but Mack was too strong.

“Mack, I’m gonna — you have to stop or I’ll come, I can’t hold it.”

“So come,” Mack said, and his voice had gone deeper and rougher both. Fitz moaned.

“I don’t want it to be over!” he said. 

“Who says it has to be over?” Mack said. He tightened his grip on Fitz’s cock and sped up his strokes. He sealed his lips over Fitz’s hole and sucked, the back of his tongue pulsing lightly over the engorged flesh of Fitz’s arse. Fitz’s whole body quivered just before he shattered, wailing as he spurted into Mack’s hand and all over the bedsheets. Mack held him steady and never let up on the soft sucking as Fitz shook through the aftershocks. 

Finally, gentle hands bore him down into the bedding, and Mack crawled up Fitz’s body, nuzzling into his pubic hair and belly and chest all the while. Fitz’s chest heaved as he caught his breath and blinked away the haze in his vision, but when he came back to himself, he was happy to find Mack lying prone atop him, half on the bed with his nose in Fitz’s suprasternal notch and his arm around Fitz’s waist. Fitz’s good arm had wound itself around Mack’s shoulders so he could lay his palm on Mack’s smooth pate, while his other arm was flung off to the side, boneless as it dangled off the edge of the mattress. Mack had slung one leg over both of Fitz’s, and his prick, still hard and slick, burned into Fitz’s thigh, though Mack seemed content not to pay it any mind. Mack’s hand came up to stroke through Fitz’s negligible amount of chest hair and toy idly with one of his nipples.

“That was amazing,” Fitz blurted. Mack chuckled and pushed his lips against Fitz’s collarbone, grazing it with his teeth. Fitz shivered.

“Pretty sure the whole bus knows how amazing it was,” Mack said. Fitz didn’t know it was possible with how flushed he already was, but he felt himself go even redder. Mack shifted so his body was covering Fitz’s, kissing his way up Fitz’s neck. He seemed hesitant to go for his mouth, but Fitz felt wanton and sensual, and he had no such qualms. He turned his head and brought his free hand over to cup Mack’s cheek. He felt Mack’s exhalation on his lips just before he claimed his kiss. Mack’s face was musky with Fitz’s own scent, but instead of being unpleasant, there was something heady about it that went straight to Fitz’s bollocks. Mack groaned and deepened the kiss. His hips jerked as if without his volition, sending his hard prick into collision with the quiescent flesh of Fitz’s. At the prickle of electricity the contact gave him, Fitz knew tonight was far from over. He ran his hands down Mack’s sides until they landed on the firm swells of his arse. He spread his legs so Mack slotted into the space between his thighs and pressed them closer, their kisses deep and hot. “God, you’re so…”

“What?” Fitz asked when Mack trailed off. “I’m so what?”

“Just…natural, I guess,” Mack said. “You do things intuitively, without much care to self consciousness, ‘bit of pudge,’ aside.” Mack met his eyes and grinned, sweeping one hand over said pudge as if it were precious. “And you must know most guys wouldn’t want to kiss me after I’d spent half an hour rimming them, but you… you just grab me and devour me. You’ve gotta know how hot that is.”

Fitz forced himself not to hunch his shoulders into himself, and if his face flamed further he resolutely ignored it. 

“I like it,” he said. “And how could I not, when you made me feel like, like, like—” He made a frustrated sound and thumped his head into the pillow. Mack hushed him, pressing his lips to an eye orbit, a cheekbone, his nose, the corner of his mouth. Fitz captured his mouth and cupped his face, grateful to be granted permission to kiss. “And you’re such a liar.”

“I’m a _liar_?” Mack reared up, hands propped on either side of Fitz’s head, and looked down at him with incredulous eyebrows. “What?”

“You don’t have stretch marks,” Fitz said, very gravely. “I was promised stretch marks.”

Mack threw his head back and laughed, a rich rumble that Fitz took wholly into his body once again. Unable to resist, he ran his hands down the perfect musculature of Mack’s chest and abdomen.

“It’s terrible,” he said with a sigh, “all this perfection. The gods of old struck men down for less.”

Mack pushed himself onto his knees between Fitz’s legs and sat up. 

“Look here,” he said, pulling Fitz’s poorly hand to his bicep. If Fitz squinted, he thought _maybe, perhaps_ there was the ghost of a stretch mark past. He got to his knees too, his own still bracketing Mack’s, and inspected the jagged little strips of shining skin closer.

“Hmm.” He ran his palm over the bulging muscle again and again. “Nope, not there, I’m afraid you lured me into your bed under false pretenses.”

“This is _your_ bed, Turbo,” Mack said, and then he half turned away from him, arching his back and squaring his shoulders. The position made his arse look positively obscene, and Fitz’s breath caught. His prick made a valiant effort to rejoin the festivities. “How ‘bout these, hot shot?”

“Huh?” Fitz’s mouth had gone dry, and he had to blink a lot when he turned his eyes back to Mack’s. His jaw hung slack, and Mack smirked at him. He pushed his arse out further.

“Do I pass muster?” he asked, voice pitched lower than ever. Fitz’s heart skipped a beat. He tore his eyes from Mack’s slick mouth to rove over his arse again, and sure enough, there were the promised marks, striping the sweet curves of Mack’s gluteal muscles with tender, silvery lines. They did not diminish him. He looked strong and supple and beautiful. He looked exactly as he should. 

“You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen,” Fitz said, “and I should like to suck your cock now.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, talking like that,” Mack said. He gathered Fitz close and kissed him again. Then he lay supine in the ruined sheets and drew Fitz down to lie atop him. “You don’t—”

“If you say I don’t have to suck this bloody perfect prick of yours, I will cry until Simmons comes in here and slaps you.”

Mack’s mouth snapped shut, but his legs fell open and Fitz couldn’t help but grin in triumph. He swept his hands up Mack’s hard thighs and settled on his elbows between Mack’s knees. He lowered his face until his nose was in a soft nest of curls — well-kept and springy, smelling strongly of fresh sweat and pure, concentrated Alphonso Mackenzie. His prick was damp, lying hard against his stomach. His bollocks hung heavy beneath him, and Fitz took his time smelling him deeply, rubbing his cheek against the hot column of Mack’s prick. Mack sighed and Fitz felt a hand in his hair, stroking through the strands without urgency. When he flicked his gaze upward, he saw Mack’s lips parted, his eyes at half-mast, the fingers of his free hand pinching his own nipple. 

Fitz held Mack’s prick in a loose grip, not altogether capable of encircling its entire girth, as well as not certain he wouldn’t hurt it somehow. He pumped it a few times before licking a tentative stripe up one side. It didn’t taste like much of anything beyond humid skin. He licked up farther until he felt Mack sigh, the hand in his hair growing heavier. When he got to the head — curiously bare and pink without its foreskin — he grew bold enough to lick away the salty slick spreading out from the tip. Mack’s breath shuddered out of him, and Fitz settled on his elbows and stomach between Mack’s legs to put all his brain power into pleasing him. He got both hands around the base of Mack’s cock and pumped at him whilst licking the head. It was hard and spongy but smooth all at the same time. Fitz was well fascinated. 

Mack’s fingers carded through Fitz’s hair, and Fitz was just beginning to enjoy himself memorizing the veins and wrinkles and smells and tastes of everything when Mack’s other hand came down to cup his cheek.

“Turbo,” he said, voice like distant thunder. Fitz popped his head up from his task, eyebrows raised. Mack smiled at him, eyes going soft and crinkled. He drew his thumb over Fitz’s cheekbone. “You look good, enjoying my cock.” Fitz smiled at him, resisting the urge to duck away. He was sucking cock, for God’s sake. You’d think he’d be beyond embarrassment by now. There was a joke about Calvinists somewhere in there. “You know what would feel really good for me?”

Fitz shook his head. Mack stroked his lips with the pad of his thumb.

“If you opened this pretty mouth of yours,” Mack said, “and put it around the head. Just the head, okay?”

Fitz nodded and swallowed. He gathered up some saliva and steadied Mack’s cock as he fed it to himself. His jaw worked to open wide enough, and he could feel the stretch of his lips as the head of Mack’s prick slid in to fill the space between his tongue and his soft palate — just right, as if the hand of nature had designed it expressly to fit in Fitz’s mouth. He grunted at the sensation of it — smooth and bitter-slick, budging up against the opening of his throat. He tried to swallow some drool, but Mack hissed.

“Watch your teeth, babe,” he said, strangled. Fitz pulled back, but Mack’s hands on him were gentle and his eyes remained warm and half-lidded. He pushed his head closer only to choke and sputter. Mack’s prick popped out of his mouth as he coughed, eyes watering. Mack sat up and put his arms around him. Fitz pushed his face into Mack’s pectoral muscles as if they could hide him, but Mack just stroked slow circles into his back and rested his cheek in Fitz’s hair.

“’m sorry,” Fitz mumbled.

“Don’t be,” Mack said. “You’re doing so well. I love doing this with you.”

“I hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Mack said. He pulled back to look Fitz in the face, his big hands coming round to cup his jaw. “You make me feel so good, Fitz.”

“You tell me what to do,” Fitz said. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Mack tilted his head, and Fitz could just feel the _you don’t have to_ gear up to fly out of his face. 

“I want to,” Fitz said. “Please, Mack.” In emphasis he rubbed his own prick, which had once again risen to the occasion, against Mack’s thigh. 

Mack exhaled long and slow, but his eyes drooped and Fitz watched them drop to his mouth as if mesmerized. He swallowed and lay back again, and Fitz settled into the space between his thighs. He scratched through the neat pubic hair before taking hold of Mack’s prick with his good hand.

“Harder,” Mack whispered. “Close your hand tighter — you won’t hurt me.”

Fitz obliged, which earned him a moan and the flutter of Mack’s eyelashes as his eyes slid shut. His head lolled back on the pillows, and Fitz’s own cock filled further as he watched a drop of sweat trail down his neck.

Without tearing his eyes away from Mack’s face, Fitz lowered his head into Mack’s lap and closed his mouth, mindful of his teeth, over the head of Mack’s cock. Mack moaned, thighs straining, and he tangled both his hands in Fitz’s hair. Fitz’s own eyelids drooped, and the pump of his blood flowed surely once again in the direction of his arse. He tried applying gentle suction, and Mack’s hips quivered as if to keep him from thrusting upward.

“That’s it,” he said, panting. “That’s just right, Turbo.”

Fitz sucked a little harder, and then more of Mack’s prick was in his mouth than anticipated and he had to draw back, but Mack whimpered, hips working, hands tightening. 

“Just like that,” he said, voice rough. “Up and down while you suck, babe, lots of spit. Use your hand to make sure you don’t take too much at once.”

Fitz began to bob up and down as instructed, hand stroking the base of Mack’s cock. He knew he could only fit a fraction of it into his mouth, and he felt a bit bad about it despite Mack’s reassurances, so he did his best to pump the shaft as he suckled the head. Saliva slipped from his mouth over the shaft and eased the way for his hand, and beneath him, Mack was writhing and moaning. Fitz felt a fire light the base of his spine, and his arse, still damp from earlier, began to clench and release. He wanted badly to finger himself. He moaned around his mouthful, and Mack let out a ragged, whimpering breath in response.

“Fitz, babe, use your tongue under the head now, okay?”

“Mmm.” Fitz pushed his tongue so the flat base of it pressed against Mack’s leaking slit and flickered the tip of it along Mack’s tight frenulum. It took a bit of doing, and his jaw ached and saliva dribbled out of his mouth, but the way Mack shuddered and moaned beneath him was worth it. 

“God, that’s exactly it. Oh _God_ , you’re good, you’re so fucking good, Turbo.”

Fitz screwed his eyes shut and focused on bobbing up and down whilst sucking and working his tongue and keeping his teeth out of the way. Cock sucking was harder work than he’d imagined, alone in his bunk, but it aroused him more than he’d anticipated as well. Finally, he couldn’t bear the thump of blood in his arse anymore. He got to his knees for balance, mouth and hand steady on Mack’s prick, and reached back to rub the pads of two fingers against his hole. He groaned around Mack’s cock when he found his hole still relaxed, still slick, and he was able to hook both fingers inside. 

The stretch in his mouth and the stretch in his arse became a feedback loop of pleasure that dizzied him. He lost the rhythm of sucking Mack’s prick, but the finesse of it seemed the least of Mack’s pleasures. After a while, Mack shifted Fitz bodily until he lay sideways across the mattress, and Mack could replace Fitz’s fingers with his own. He slid two long fingers inside without ceremony, and Fitz’s resulting scream was muffled by Mack’s own prick. Stars cascaded behind Fitz’s eyelids; Mack’s fingers were longer than his, and thicker, and Fitz’s arsehole clamped down on them. He tilted his hips back and sucked so hard on Mack’s cock that a burst of bitterness spread anew across his tongue. Mack, good, lovely, Fitz-speaking Mack, began to frig him in earnest. 

Fitz redoubled his efforts on Mack’s prick, suddenly uncaring of the drool and the picture he made. He pumped the shaft and sucked the head and arched his back for more fingers. He heard Mack uncap and tear open the seal of his optimistic lube with one hand, his teeth, and some gumption, and then his arse was being flooded with slick, and Mack tucked — slowly, so maddeningly slowly — one more finger inside. He pulled, firm but gentle, at each wall of Fitz’s arse, until Fitz was a whimpering mess whose mouth was stuffed too full with cock to beg for more. 

Mack crooked his fingers just so and grazed Fitz’s prostate. Fitz reared up and cried out, shoving himself backwards into Mack’s hand.

“Please, Mack,” he said, and he was startled to find his voice rough and low. “Please, please put it in me, I’ve thought about it so much, I need it, please.”

“God,” Mack said in a single shaky breath. “Who could say no to that?”

Fitz scrambled away and turned around to pull Mack into a kiss. Mack’s hands went to his arse and squeezed them roughly, which Fitz enjoyed enough that a loud groan that reverberated between the bulkheads.

“I hope everyone else had urgent appointments elsewhere,” Mack said with a shake of his head.

“Fuck everyone else,” Fitz said, and then paused. Mack smirked at him. “On second thought, just fuck me. Only me.”

“Only you,” Mack murmured, spreading Fitz’s cheeks apart in his hands. Fitz kissed him again, and again, and wondered if he would ever get tired of kissing this man. After a long time kissing and rubbing their pricks together, Mack made to press Fitz facedown into the mattress again, but Fitz turned on his side and Mack slotted in behind him. Fitz twisted enough to look into his face.

“Can we not do it that way?” Fitz asked. “We already did, er, the other thing like that, and I want to see your, your—” He reached over with his shaking, weakened hand and stroked down Mack’s stubble.

Mack rubbed down Fitz’s sides. It was soothing even as it anchored him from the stratospheric pleasures that had him soaring just moments before.

“It’s easier from behind,” Mack said, “especially the first time. Especially with, um, my size.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we can — oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Condoms.”

“I have some in the drawer.”

Mack ducked his head so his forehead was resting against Fitz’s shoulder.

“I need special condoms,” he mumbled into Fitz’s skin.

“Oh,” Fitz said, and then he giggled a bit.

“You makin’ fun of me?”

“No, I — I just…well. It’s a bit pervy, is the thing.”

“So far I’ve liked all your ‘bits,’ Turbo, so lay it on me.”

Fitz turned onto his back. Mack was leaning over him, half propped on one elbow, gazing down at him with a light in his eyes.

“When I thought of this, with you, er, in my _private time_ —”

“I know you know the words, bud. You should use them.”

“ _Fine_.” Fitz huffed. “When I would _wank_ with my _fingers_ up my _arse_ wishing it was _you_ , I always imagined I could convince you not to use condoms at all. I imagined you would, erm, you would come in me, just, just bloody flood me with your come. Erm. I’d think of that, and I would practically break my back when I came.”

“ _Fuck_.” Mack thrust his cock against Fitz’s hip.

Fitz grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mack groaned, but then he shook his head. “No. _No_ , I am not barebacking you first thing, Turbo.”

“Why not? We’re both subject to monthly SHIELD tests. You don’t take any prescriptions, so I know you’re as clean as me. Nothing can happen, Mack.”

“You watched me for prescriptions?”

Fitz slung his leg over Mack’s hip and rubbed his good hand down over his back.

“I lived in hope,” he said softly. “And any little bit of information became wank fodder.”

Mack swore under his breath, dropping his head so he could muffle his words against Fitz’s neck. When he nibbled toward the back of it, Fitz shivered and shuddered, prick swelling again.

“There’s more to it,” Mack said. He settled over Fitz and began rocking his prick against Fitz’s. “An ass full of come sounds a lot funner than it actually is.”

“Can’t I decide that for myself?” Fitz said. He settled his hands on Mack’s hips as they moved in tandem with his own. “Don’t I deserve that?”

“You play dirty pool, Turbo.”

Fitz hummed and kissed Mack again, knowing he’d won.

In the end, Mack spent the better part of an hour opening Fitz up with his tongue and his fingers and soft words and optimistic lube. He kissed every inch of Fitz’s body and ran his hands like a supplicant on all his fevered skin. By the time he pressed the wide, blunt head of his cock against the opening to Fitz’s body, Fitz was boneless and begging, on his side with one knee hitched up in Mack’s hand. Mack’s other hand steadied his prick while his mouth sucked kisses into Fitz’s shoulders. His hole was slack and hungry, but still there was resistance.

“Bear down on me,” Mack said, and with a whimper Fitz obliged. The head of Mack’s cock pressed through the tight ring abruptly, making Fitz cry out in surprise. It was a stretch, but it didn’t hurt, and Mack’s rumbling groan through his body was enough to make him want to rock back into the penetration.

Mack lay still whilst Fitz’s arse contracted around the intrusion. It felt stranger than fingers, bigger, and very much like he was searching for something just beyond his reach. He squirmed backwards and felt his arse give just a little more, and then the head of Mack’s prick pressed into his prostate and he gasped.

“There?” Mack said, and Fitz could only whimper in response. “Okay, hold on.” Mack pushed Fitz’s knee up, and Fitz could feel his fist close around his prick just outside of Fitz’s arse. He pulled the head of his cock out and Fitz moaned at the loss, only to feel him push it back in right up against his prostate. Fitz gave an almighty bellow, and Mack did it again. He thrust in and out over and over with just the head of his prick until Fitz was keening continuously and grinding back into the contact. 

“God, that feels— that feels—” He grasped his cock and established a graceless, punishing rhythm. It felt like possession. It felt like wildfire. It felt like completion.

“You look perfect like this,” Mack growled into his ear.

“Keep, keep fucking, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“Gonna keep you,” Mack said, “never gonna let you go, make you mine, make you _mine_.” He pressed hard into Fitz’s prostate and Fitz lost all breath, his vision whiting out as his orgasm burst though him. The force of it expelled Mack’s prick from his arse and splattered semen all the way off the bed. Fitz sobbed in a breath and shook as he yanked his cock dry. Mack let his knee down and locked his arms around Fitz’s body to draw him in close before pressing his prick inside again. “Never saw something so gorgeous,” he said. He said a lot of things while Fitz slumped back into him, floating somewhere high above the earth. He was distantly aware of the shallow thrusts inside him, and when he finally had the wherewithal to tangle his fingers together with Mack’s on his stomach, Mack’s mouth closed on his shoulder and muffled his cry as he came and came — a wet warmth inside Fitz’s body. 

The air in Fitz’s quarters was heady with the scent of sweat and sex. He could hear nothing but Mack’s breath, harsh and quick, and the thunder of his own heartbeat. He rubbed Mack’s thigh where it had gone limp over his hip, and eventually Mack’s prick slipped from Fitz’s body and left him bereft. He felt the squidge of the mess inside him, and maybe that’s what Mack was talking about when he said an arse full of come wasn’t as great in reality as it was in fantasy, but Fitz found it made him feel sexy somehow. Claimed and marked. Lovely and full, like someone wanted him. Like _Mack_ wanted him, and who in the world was better than Mack? An arse full of come made Fitz feel smug, actually. He reached back and pushed some of the dribbling ejaculate back into his arse, and he left three fingers inside like a consolation prize.

“Fuck,” Mack said emphatically, mashed as he was against Fitz’s shoulder. “Are you actually trying to kill me?” He grasped Fitz’s wrist and ease his fingers out, only to replace them with his softening prick. Fitz hummed happily and cuddled himself back into his arms. Mack kissed his shoulders and the back of his neck lazily while Fitz played with his fingers over his chest, uncaring of the mess of come and lube all over himself. “We’re gonna have to get a gift basket for the rest of the crew,” Mack said. “‘Sorry about the loud sex, have some fruit in novelty shapes.’”

“Hopefully they got out before we got to fruit basket decibels.”

Mack mouthed at his neck and Fitz sighed. 

“So,” Mack said. 

“So.”

“How was it?” Mack said. 

Fitz leaned his head back so it was fully cradled in the juncture between Mack’s neck and shoulder.

“I am aware,” he said, “that you moved heaven and earth to introduce me to sex in as kind and ecstatic a manner as possible, and I am not only thankful, I am a wrung-out bag of lube and sperm divested of all bones.”

“There’s an image.”

“So I think you know how it was.”

“Can’t a guy fish for compliments?”

Another wriggle and Fitz was able to kiss him. 

“How about this?” he said. “I’ve never experienced a moment happier than the one where I realized you were alive, but your prick inside me making me come was a close second.”

Mack let his cock slip out of Fitz’s hole, and before he could protest, he flipped them so Fitz lay on top of him, one big hand splayed wide and spanning the entirety of Fitz’s arse. Come seeped out of him, and even though he knew it would get itchy and sticky and decidedly unpleasant, he couldn’t stop thinking of it as anything but utterly arousing.

“You’re the first thing I thought of,” Mack said. “When I came back to myself in that pit.”

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into Mack’s ribs.

“I knew I couldn’t wait anymore,” Mack said. “I knew how quickly all our chances to be together could be taken away, and I wondered why I’d let it go for so long. I don’t usually, you know? I’ve never been the guy who hides away his feelings just because we all collectively pretend men operate on pure logic and reason. But there I was with Coulson’s blood on my knuckles, terrified because I’d been a monster not two seconds ago, and I knew I’d been a fool to wait with you.”

“It was my fault,” Fitz said. “You were just… coddling my neuroses.”

“It’s no one’s fault. It is what it is. We’re here right now, and we’re together, and whatever’s coming next, I want to be able to face it with no regrets.”

Fitz raised his head and met Mack’s eyes. A rich, lighted brown.

“And?” Fitz said. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Only that I found out what a kink monster you were so late.”

Fitz stuck his tongue out and Mack darted up to suck it into his mouth. They kissed languidly for a long time before Fitz pulled away.

“Next time I’m taking the whole thing,” he said. “None of this ‘just the head’ shite.”

“We’ll work up to it.”

“ _Next time_.”

“Oh God,” Mack said. “What’s it like, getting everything you want in bed just because you’re so fucking cute?”

“It’s brilliant,” Fitz said. “You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mack tucked his fingers into the crack of Fitz’s arse. “I should get you a washcloth or something.”

“No,” Fitz said. “Leave it. Please.”

“Oh.”

He listened, for a while, to the strong timekeeping of Mack’s heart. His head rose and fell with the breath in Mack’s chest. It was as perfect a moment as Fitz had ever experienced.

“Mack?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I’m glad you’re alive. And I’m glad you’re mine.”

“Turbo,” Mack said, “you read my mind.”

 

**End**


End file.
